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Serv. That's to't, indeed, sir. Marry, sir, at the request of Paris, my lord, who is there in person; with him, the mortal Venus, the heart-blood of beauty, love's invisible soul

Pan. Who, my cousin Cressida?

Serv. No, sir, Helen: could you not find out that by her attributes?

Pan. It should seem, fellow, that thou hast not seen the lady Cressida. I come to speak with Paris from the prince Troilus: I will make a complimental assault upon him, for my business seeths.

Serv. Sodden business: there's a stewed phrase, indeed.

Enter PARIS and HELEN, attended.

Pan. Fair be to you, my lord, and to all this fair company! fair desires, in all fair measure, fairly guide them; especially to you, fair queen: fair thoughts be your fair pillow!

Helen. Dear lord, you are full of fair words.

Pan. You speak your fair pleasure, sweet queen.Fair prince, here is good broken music.

Par. You have broke it, cousin; and, by my life, you shall make it whole again: you shall piece it out with a piece of your performance.-Nell, he is full of harmony.

Pan. Truly, lady, no.

Helen. O, sir !—

Pan. Rude, in sooth; in good sooth, very rude. Par. Well said, my lord. Well, you say so in fits. Pan. I have business to my lord, dear queen. My lord, will you vouchsafe me a word?

Helen. Nay, this shall not hedge us out: we'll hear you sing, certainly.

Pan. Well, sweet queen, you are pleasant with me. But, marry, thus, my lord.-My dear lord, and most esteemed friend, your brother Troilus

Helen. My lord Pandarus; honey-sweet lord,— Pan. Go to, sweet queen, go to:-commends himself most affectionately to you.

Helen. You shall not bob us out of our melody: if you do, our melancholy upon your head.

Pan. Sweet queen, sweet queen; that's a sweet queen,-i'faith

Helen. And to make a sweet lady sad is a sour offence.

Pan. Nay, that shall not serve your turn; that shall it not, in truth, la! Nay, I care not for such words: no, no.-And, my lord, he desires you, that if the king call for him at supper, you will make his excuse. Helen. My lord Pandarus,

Pan. What says my sweet queen,-my very very sweet queen ?

Par. What exploit's in hand? where sups he tonight?

Helen. Nay, but my lord,

Pan. What says my sweet queen?-My cousin will fall out with you. You must not know where he

sups.

Par. I'll lay my life, with my disposer Cressida.

Pan. No, no; no such matter, you are wide. Come, your disposer is sick.

Par. Well, I'll make excuse.

Pan. Ay, good my lord.

Why should you say

Cressida? no, your poor disposer's sick.

Par. I spy.

Pan. You spy! what do you spy?-Come, give me an instrument.-Now, sweet queen.

Helen. Why, this is kindly done.

8 You must not know where he sups.] These words are assigned to Helen in the quartos and folio, but evidently improperly, as what has passed between Pandarus and Paris has been apart from Helen: they are an answer by Pandarus to the inquiry of Paris, "Where sups he to-night?" The words, “I'll lay my life," in the beginning of the next speech of Paris, are only in the quartos.

Pan. My niece is horribly in love with a thing you

have, sweet queen.

Helen. She shall have it, my lord, if it be not my lord Paris.

Pan. He! no, she'll none of him; they two are twain.

Helen. Falling in, after falling out, may make them three.

Pan. Come, come, I'll hear no more of this. I'll sing you a song now.

Helen. Ay, ay, pr'ythee now. By my troth, sweet lord, thou hast a fine forehead.

Pan. Ay, you may, you may.

Helen. Let thy song be love: this love will undo us all. O, Cupid, Cupid, Cupid!

Pan. Love! ay, that it shall, i'faith.

Par. Ay, good now, love, love, nothing but love.
Pan. In good troth, it begins so:

Love, love, nothing but love, still more'!

For, oh! love's bow

Shoots buck and doe:
The shaft confounds,
Not that it wounds
But tickles still the sore.

These lovers cry-Oh! oh! they die!

Yet that which seems the wound to kill,

Doth turn oh! oh! to ha! ha! he!
So dying love lives still:

Oh! oh! a while, but ha! ha! ha!

Oh! oh! groans out for ha! ha! ha!—hey ho!

Helen. In love, i'faith, to the very tip of the nose. Par. He eats nothing but doves, love; and that breeds hot blood, and hot blood begets hot thoughts,

9 Love, love, nothing but love, still more!] So the folio. The quartos give this line as follows:

VOL. VI.

66

'Love, love, nothing but love, still love still more."

F

and hot thoughts beget hot deeds, and hot deeds is love.

Pan. Is this the generation of love? hot blood, hot thoughts, and hot deeds?-Why, they are vipers: is love a generation of vipers? Sweet lord, who's a-field to-day?

Par. Hector, Deiphobus, Helenus, Antenor, and all the gallantry of Troy: I would fain have armed to-day, but my Nell would not have it so. How chance my brother Troilus went not?

Helen. He hangs the lip at something:-you know all, lord Pandarus.

Pan. Not I, honey-sweet queen.-I long to hear how they sped to-day.-You'll remember your brother's excuse?

Par. To a hair.

Pan. Farewell, sweet queen.

Helen. Commend me to your niece.

Pan. I will, sweet queen.

[Exit.

[A Retreat sounded.

Par. They're come from field: let us to Priam's

hall,

To greet the warriors.

Sweet Helen, I must woo you

To help unarm our Hector: his stubborn buckles,
With these your white enchanting fingers touch'd,
Shall more obey than to the edge of steel,

Or force of Greekish sinews: you shall do more
Than all the island kings, disarm great Hector.
Helen. Twill make us proud to be his servant,
Paris:

Yea, what he shall receive of us in duty,

Gives us more palm in beauty than we have:

Yea, overshines ourself.

Par. Sweet, above thought I love thee'.

[Exeunt.

1 Sweet, above thought I love THEE.] This is the reading of the folio, (the quartos having her for "thee ") which, however, incorrectly assigns the exclamation to Helen: the quartos give it to Paris.

[blocks in formation]

Enter PANDARUS and a Servant, meeting.

Pan. How now! where's thy master? at my cousin Cressida's?

Serv. No, sir; he stays for you to conduct him thither.

Enter TROILUS.

Pan. O here he comes.-How now, how now!
Tro. Sirrah, walk off.

Pan. Have you seen my cousin?

[Exit Servant.

Tro. No, Pandarus: I stalk about her door,
Like a strange soul upon the Stygian banks
Staying for waftage. O! be thou my Charon,
And give me swift transportance to those fields,
Where I may wallow in the lily beds

Propos'd for the deserver. O, gentle Pandarus!
From Cupid's shoulder pluck his painted wings,
And fly with me to Cressid.

Pan. Walk here i' the orchard. I'll bring her straight. [Exit PANDARUS.

Tro. I am giddy: expectation whirls me round.

Th' imaginary relish is so sweet

That it enchants my sense; what will it be,
When that the watery palate tastes indeed
Love's thrice-repured nectar?? death, I fear me;
Swooning destruction; or some joy too fine,
Too subtle-potent, tun'd too sharp in sweetness 3,

2 Love's thrice-REPURED nectar ?] So one of the quartos of 1609 (that belonging to the Duke of Devonshire), and so, no doubt, rightly, "repured" being taken in the sense of refined or purified. The folio, by a misprint, has thricereputed, which has been ever since repeated.

— TUN'D too sharp in sweetness,] Here the quarto affords the better reading the folio tamely, and without regard to the figure derived from music, has merely," and too sharp in sweetness."

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